


The House On The Sand

by pikablob



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s02e05 The Windmill, Runaway Hilda AU, Victoria Van Gale Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikablob/pseuds/pikablob
Summary: Months after running away, Hilda takes shelter in a mysterious beachside cabin.Months after the Nowhere Space incident, Victoria finds a familiar child asleep on her floor.[Set in myRunaway Hilda AU, but you don't need to read anything else to understand this.]
Relationships: Hilda & Twig (Hilda), Victoria Van Gale & Hilda (Hilda)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. The Beach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nach0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nach0/gifts).



> This is based on [a headcanon](https://ultimate-kaisa-simp.tumblr.com/post/642010907157954560/headcanons-for-eric-alhberg-and-victora-van-gale) written by the amazing [ultimate-kaisa-simp](https://ultimate-kaisa-simp.tumblr.com) ([Nach0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nach0) on AO3!!). It takes place between chapters 5 and 6 of [The 5+1 Runaway Hilda AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020464/chapters/71227164), but you don't need to have read that first.
> 
> Recommended Songs: [Run Wild](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGoZJjbH5OM), [Dead End Road (Runaway!Hilda's Themes)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyRnyIMbkWU), [Ready Now (Victoria's Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gt3Fwn2aM20)

It was a beautiful evening. The air was pleasantly warm, a gentle breeze blowing in from the south. The sky was a brilliant purple, turning to orange where it met the horizon. The sun was nearly set, its lower edge dipped out of sight. And Hilda was flying.

She had the wind in her blue hair and a smile on her face, hands holding tightly to the fur of the woff underneath her. It cooed contentedly, bobbing in the air as it weaved through the flock, unbothered by the child riding high on its back or the deerfox whose head stuck out of her backpack.

They were flying fast; no doubt this was a long migration. Below the ground flashed past, trees with long yellow leaves rustling in the breeze. Now and then a large rocky spire jutted out, the stone sun-bleached and crumbly. In the distance the trees gave way to a long strip of white sand, pock-marked with small rocks, before the land dipped below the lapping waves of a gentle sea.

It all looked so small from up here, right in the middle of a migrating woff flock. But as they approached the beach the leaders of the pack descended, calling out for their fellow creatures to follow. Hilda felt her stomach rise as her own woff followed, swooping low over the trees and on towards the beach.

This was their last stop before they headed out to sea, she realised. It suddenly looked like her ride was at an end. She would have to jump.

“Hold on Twig!” she called, getting a sharp yap from her backpack in reply. “This is our stop!”

She tensed, waiting for just the right moment. The woff zipped over the treetops, trying to keep pace with the leader. And then they were over open sand, their wake stirring up spirals of dust. Hilda took a deep breath, and leapt.

Her feet hit the sand running. For a moment her momentum carried her on, her legs struggling to keep pace. She looked up, watching her woff pull away and rise back up into the sky.

Suddenly her foot connected with something hard. She stumbled, the momentum of her body carrying her forwards. She barely had time to throw her arms out before she landed front-first on the soft sand, skidding to a halt right before where the waves were lapping.

She saw Twig roll to a halt a few feet away, thrown clear by the fall. He leapt to his hooves, shaking the sand from his fur, and hurried back over to where she had fallen. There was concern for her in his tiny eyes as he approached, kneeling down to lick at her face.

“I’m alright boy,” she laughed, getting to her feet. She dusted herself down, brushing the worst of the sand from her jacket, before reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “Such is the life of a runaway.”

He let out a quiet yapping sound, satisfied that she wasn’t hurt. She turned her gaze skywards, watching as the woff she had been riding disappeared off towards the setting sun with its companions. She gave the creatures a wave, but it was far too far for the woffs to notice.

Letting out a sigh, she turned away from the sea, taking in her surroundings. As she looked around her gaze settled on what had tripped her up; right in her path was a pyramid-shaped rock with sides worn smooth by the tide, its surface showing a dark grain. More were scattered up and down the beach, their smooth sides glinting in the last of the light. It really was beautiful, like nothing she had ever seen.

“We must be a long way from Trolberg,” she noted, taking in the sight. Something twinged inside her at that; even now, months after she’d run away from home, miles and miles into the wilderness, some part of her missed the city.

She had camped near the city walls a few times; she’d even talked to hikers and campers sometimes, and the last time she had briefly run into Gerda Gustav. But every time she had turned away again, heading back out into the wilderness, because she couldn’t shake the memories of why she had run in the first place: the arguments, the lying, the sneaking out. Mum deserved a better daughter, Hilda reminded herself; things were better this way.

Twig seemed to sense her discomfort. He trotted over, rubbing up against her legs and letting out reassuring noises. She bent down, gently rubbing behind his ears again, suddenly very glad for the company.

“Thanks, boy,” she said softly. He let out a concerned yelp; she didn’t need to speak deerfox to understand what he was trying to say. “I’m fine,” she assured quickly, standing up. But as she did, she couldn’t help noticing the last rays of the sun fading from the rocks; a glance back showed it disappear behind the horizon. She suddenly felt very tired, the day catching up with her as the adrenaline high of woff-riding faded. “Although, we should probably find somewhere to camp for the night.”

Sleeping on the beach would be nice, but they would have no protection if the weather turned or some creature spotted them from above. The woods were her next best bet, she decided, so she started trudging slowly back up the beach. But halfway up Twig suddenly threw himself in front of her legs, yapping loudly.

“What is it, boy?” she asked. He turned, head lowered and tail rising, pointing up the beach. She followed his gaze; just along from where they were, right where the beach met the treeline, was a small wooden shack.

Curiosity got the better of Hilda. She headed towards the shack, Twig bounding along at her feet. Part of her wondered if the owner, whoever they were, would consider letting her and Twig stay the night. Another part of her remembered the last time she had found a cottage in the wild, and how it had tried to trap her, but she tried to ignore those thoughts.

As she approached, she could see it looked well-built but patchwork. A corrugated iron roof stooped over walls patched together from wooden planks of various lengths, many covered in mismatched peeling paint. It had a small porch out front, with a battered brown door in the centre and two small windows either side; Hilda tried to peer through them, but all she could see was darkness.

Cautiously she stepped up onto the porch, the mismatched boards creaking under her boots. She stopped at the door, giving it a quick knock. When there was no reply, she tried the handle; it was unlocked, and the door swung open with a creak of rusty hinges to reveal a small, dark room.

Twig whimpered a little as Hilda stepped slowly inside, looking around. It was almost too dark to see, but her gaze landed on a large switch just inside the door. It looked more like the kind of thing you’d use to control machinery than a normal light switch, with a big lever that flipped down, but Hilda couldn’t stop herself from flipping it, curiosity getting the better of her.

There was a loud humming sound from somewhere under the floorboards, accompanied by a crackle of electricity. Overhead a series of electric lanterns, suspended from the roof beams and connected by loose-hanging cables, flickered to life, filling the whole room with warm yellow light.

“Woah,” she breathed, looking around the room again. In the new light she could see the whole thing; the single room took up the entire cabin, with a bed against one wall and a desk against the other. It all looked very cosy, and Hilda couldn’t help feeling a desire to stay. The back wall had shelves, holding a few shells and a small collection of books.

“Woff migrations, weather patterns, the basics of hyper… what?” Hilda read off the spines. They looked more like textbooks than novels, so she moved on.

To her left was a large contraption on a small table, hooked up to the same exposed cables as the lamps. It looked almost like someone had Frankensteined two coffee machines together, with pipes and wires jutting out at odd angles. Dirty mugs sat piled by one side of it, while a few more bobbed in a bucket of sudsy water on the floor.

There was no sign of anyone anywhere, but the cabin did look lived in. Hilda couldn’t help remembering the last time this had happened, how she and Woodman had ended up trapped; was this place something similar? Twig let out another concerned whimper, seemingly sensing her hesitation.

“It’ll be fine if we stay here for tonight,” she assured quickly, trying to reassure herself as much as him. “I’m sure.” That was a lie, and she knew it. But suddenly she had an idea, a smile crossing her face.

“House!” she called out to the rafters. “I’m leaving!” Twig stepped back, looking at her in confusion. She stepped slowly towards the door, giving any supernatural presence plenty of time to stop her, but nothing came. She walked clean through, out onto the porch and down to the sand below.

She let out a sigh of relief, confident that this strange little cabin wasn’t out to trap her. The owner, whoever they were, might be a different story, but she wasn’t really concerned. So she hiked back up the stairs.

“See,” she said to Twig, suppressing a yawn. “Nothing to worry about. We can stay here for one night.” He didn’t look convinced, but she knew he trusted her judgement.

For a moment she considered taking the bed, before thinking better of it. She was an uninvited guest, after all, and she didn’t want to be a bother if the owner came back. Just a roof over her head and a warm place to sleep would be enough. So she set her backpack down on the floor, unstrapping her bedroll from the bottom of it.

She laid the thing out across the floorboards, making sure it wasn’t right in the doorway. She put her sleeping bag on top of it, then shrugged her jacket off and draped that over the top for extra warmth. Finally, she threw the light switch again, the humming from below the floor dying down to silence and the lights flickering off.

She kicked her sandy boots off and sat down on the edge of the bedroll, shimmying into her sleeping bag with practiced ease. Twig glanced over at the door, still a little hesitant, before trotting over to join her. He climbed onto the mat beside her as she lay down, curling up so that his head still faced the exit. Hilda yawned again, reaching down to stroke his white fur.

“Night, Twig.”


	2. The Night

Victoria Van Gale was exhausted. It was already nighttime, the new moon hanging low over the forest. Tinned food and provisions clanked loudly in her bag, jostled with each step; it was a long way to the nearest town, almost half a day on foot, so she made a point of stocking up whenever she had to go. Her assistant, scurrying along beside her, had another bag almost as full as hers.

Putting him back together had been a challenge. She could have abandoned him after the portal incident, she supposed, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him being trapped as an enchanted skull because of her own mistakes. So, she had done her best to piece him back together from fresh branches and bones of the forest. It wasn’t perfect; he was still getting used to his limbs being different lengths, and the moss she used to replace his head fur kept falling off, but it was better than nothing.

Victoria couldn’t say if she was happy with her new life, but she had settled into a sort of quiet contentment. She’d managed to put up a small home together with her assistant’s help, the skills she had taught him to help fix the windmill being put to good use again. She even had some furniture, thanks to a few trips to town, but the thing she was most proud of had to be the power regenerator.

It was based on the same technology she’d used to generate lightning over Trolberg. The weather station felt like a lifetime ago now, but the science behind it had been sound. So she had reused it in reverse; a rod set up on one of the rocky peaks near her shack captured incoming lightning, and a cable carried it down to a crude turbine under her home. There the electrical energy was stored until she needed it, powering her lights, the coffee machine she’d rebuilt from old parts, and anything else she might need.

She was looking forwards now to turning it on, to flopping back into her almost-comfortable bed with a mug of coffee and her assistant at her side. She was sure he felt the same, hurrying on as fast as his little legs would carry him.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the sea came into view, and with it her little home on the sand. Her nisse hurried over to it, while she followed on behind through the trees. By the time she was out on the beach, her back aching under the weight of her supplies, he was already waiting for her by the porch steps.

“I think unpacking can wait until tomorrow,” she observed, noting how dark it already was. He nodded, scurrying up the stairs and carefully setting his bag down on the porch. She followed, dumping her own bag with a clink of cans and bottles. Her assistant stepped up to the doorway, pushing the door open.

She saw him freeze, his whole artificial body jolting in surprise. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on-end; something inside the house had clearly spooked him. Immediately she felt worries begin to claw at her mind. Had someone found her out here? Had the place been trashed?

“What is it?” she demanded. He spun his head around, turnip-nose wobbling, and gestured for her to come closer. She crept across the porch, wishing she’d given him some way of communicating as she closed the distance.

She had no idea what to expect as she peered over his head, her eyes adjusting to the moonless darkness beyond. There was a dark shape curled up in the middle of the room, and as she recognised it she had to suppress a gasp. Because what her assistant had found was a child, a human girl with terribly familiar blue hair, wrapped up in a sleeping bag and fast asleep on her floor.

“Shhh!” she hissed without thinking, something instinctive telling her not to wake the girl. When she spoke again it was in a hushed whisper “Let me through.”

Her assistant reluctantly stepped aside, letting Victoria slip through the doorway. She crept cautiously over to the sleeping child and knelt down to get a better look, feeling her heartbeat grow louder with each passing second.

It was unmistakeably Hilda, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and a loose yellow sweater clinging to her form. She was fast asleep, completely unaware of Victoria standing over her, with one arm draped loosely over a small, white-furred animal that was curled up beside her. She looked strangely peaceful, and Victoria found she didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

She couldn’t help thinking back to their last meeting. There was an uncomfortable pang in her chest at the thought; she had been so sure her Nowhere Space idea was a good one, that Hilda and her friends just needed to see how much it would help. But instead they had all been hurt and disappointed, and that had left her second-guessing her whole plan. She could see now how short-sighted she had been, how she had used them for her own ends, but she had no idea how to even begin to make up for that.

If she was really honest, that was part of why she was so far out here. She knew they would never forgive her again; they had already made that mistake once, and she had betrayed their trust. And besides, she was sure that if she tried to help them now it would inevitably backfire again and end up hurting them.

She sighed; when had she gotten attached? Where had these feelings come from? Why should she, a woman of science, care about the opinions of a child and her friends? But at the same time, she couldn’t deny how she felt.

She hadn’t even noticed that her assistant had come over until he knelt down beside her, the sight jolting her from her thoughts. He regarded Hilda with curiosity, looking down at the girl and then up at Victoria, his head tilting questioningly.

“No, I don’t know why she’s here,” Victoria sighed. That was a good question, actually; why was Hilda this far out from Trolberg? And why was she sleeping on the floor of what, to her, no doubt looked like a random shack?

The only conclusion the woman could think of was that Hilda had gotten lost. She felt another pang; she remembered how it had been when she had first been dumped here, before she knew where she was or what to do. Was Hilda in a similar situation?

She reached out, her hand hesitating inches from the girl’s hair. Part of her wanted to wake her up, to offer her an apology and a proper place to stay for the night. But her doubts held her back; Hilda probably never wanted to see her again, justifiably so.

With a sigh, Victoria stood back up. She hated how little she felt in control of this situation; she wanted to do something, to help Hilda, to make it up to her, to change for the better somehow. But what could she do? Her assistant seemed to notice her distress, looking up at her with what she had learned was a questioning gaze, but it was a small comfort.

Looking over to her bed, Victoria felt an idea begin to form. Hilda deserved a comfortable night, at least, she decided. She looked down at her assistant, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“I need you to hold the end of her sleeping bag,” she ordered. He nodded, creaking around to the feet end of the bedroll and kneeling down. She bent down at the head end, gingerly reaching down and carefully sliding her arms underneath Hilda’s sleeping form.

As quickly as she dared she lifted Hilda out of the sleeping bag, her assistant helping to pull her free. Once she was up, Victoria started walking across the room, only to freeze as she felt the child in her arms stir.

“Mum?” a tiny voice asked. Victoria looked down, dread creeping up her spine, but Hilda was still asleep, her eyes shut. She no longer looked peaceful; her brow was furrowed and her lips pressed together, and Victoria felt a stab of unwelcome guilt at having disturbed her.

“Shhh,” she said softly, gingerly carrying Hilda the rest of the way. She carefully set the girl down on the bed, the old springs creaking quietly as they took her weight. Hilda squirmed a little as she withdrew her touch, murmuring quiet sounds of distress as the woman stepped back.

Gently Victoria pulled the covers over her, wishing she had some way to comfort Hilda. She hated seeing the girl distressed like this, and she couldn’t shake the feeling it was her fault. But then Hilda murmured something else, the words so quiet that Victoria could barely hear them.

“I’m sorry.”

Victoria felt a lump form in her throat. She couldn’t know what Hilda was seeing in her dreams, who she might be apologising to, but she couldn’t help feeling like those tiny words were directed at her somehow. She knelt back down beside her bed, feeling care rise up unbidden in her chest.

“It’s alright, Hilda,” she soothed, reaching out and gently running a hand through the girl’s blue hair, “it’s not your fault.” She couldn’t help more words spilling forth, even though she doubted Hilda could hear her. “I’m the one who should apologise for what I did, not you.”

At her touch and words Hilda finally grew quiet again. The tension slowly faded from her face, her expression settling back into contentment, and she uncurled a little under the covers. Victoria smiled at the sight, feeling relief and warmth inside in equal measure. She stood up slowly, her hand lingering in Hilda’s hair for a moment before she pulled it away.

She stepped back, careful to avoid stepping on the sleeping animal curled up on the floor. Her assistant stepped over to her side, craning his not-neck to get a look at the sleeping child. It was hard to read his expression, even after living with him for so long, but she was sure there was something fond in his gaze too.

Victoria found the gears in her head turning as she watched on. If Hilda was lost, then there was more she could do to help. She didn’t want to be seen; she would leave before the girl woke up, but she would leave Hilda everything she needed to get home to Trolberg.

She was finally doing something good, she realised. For the first time in a long time, she had managed to help without it all blowing up in her face. Maybe a warm bed and directions home weren’t much compared to infinite living space and mastery of nature, but it was a start. And for now, for Victoria, that was enough.


	3. The Decision

For a few moments when Hilda awoke, she was sure she was back in her own bedroom in Trolberg. The covers over her felt so familiar, and her dreams lingered in her mind, but slowly the room came into focus and she felt a stab of disappointment at the sight of the patchwork cabin from the night before.

She had dreamed she was home. It had all felt so real; mum had carried her to bed, tucking her in like she used to, and in the haze of sleep Hilda hadn’t even questioned it. Instead, she had tried to apologise to her for everything, for lying, for endangering her, for being a bad daughter, for running away, but her mother had just smiled and quietly reassured her.

_“It’s not your fault. I'm the one who should apologise for what I did, not you.”_

The words still echoed in Hilda’s mind. But now that she was awake, her mind no longer clouded with dreams, she found the voice sounded off. It hadn’t sounded like her mum saying those words, but someone else. They sounded familiar, but Hilda couldn’t be sure why.

So it had all been wishful thinking then, she realised, feeling a twinge inside. Of course it was too good to be true, the thought that she could just go home and mum would understand everything.

But then how had she gotten into bed? Hilda shook her head, trying to clear the sad thoughts and fog of sleep from her mind. She was sure she had gone to sleep on the floor; sure enough, her empty sleeping bag and mat were still on the floor, and Twig was curled up where she had been sleeping.

“Twig?” she called down. His head shot up, looking over at the sleeping bag and then up to where she was lying. A look of confusion settled on his features, his head tilting to one side as if to say _“when did you get up?”_

Her curiosity spiking, she turned and slid her legs off the edge of the bed. Quickly she got to her feet, stepping across the mismatched floorboards. A flash of colour from the desk caught her eye, illuminated by the morning sunlight streaming into the cabin, and she slowly approached.

Propped up on a stack of books so she would see it was a worn brown map, showing wind patterns over the entire region. There was a long and winding arrow pencilled on it, starting down at a small ‘x’ on the southern coast and winding northeast up until it stopped at a city: Trolberg, she realised, reading the name off the paper.

This was a map home, she realised with a start. Looking over it again her gaze found a note, scratched in the corner over empty sea:

_Hilda,_

_I hope you had a pleasant night. I’ve taken the liberty of restocking your supplies, so you should have enough to make it to Trolberg. This map should help you get home, so feel free to take it with you; I know how easy it can be to get lost out here._

_V + N_

“+ N” was clearly written by someone else, the letter large and wonky. Hilda couldn’t help smiling, even as her confusion continued to rise.

A whimper from Twig drew her attention away. She looked over to see him pawing at her backpack. Stepping over, she could see the problem; his favourite spot was filled up, tins of food filling the bag to the brim. It was enough to get her back home without having to stop even once.

Maybe this house was enchanted after all, she thought. Or maybe it had its own elves, or friendly nisse, or something she hadn’t even heard of yet! Maybe it gave you what you really needed: a warm bed, an understanding mum, and everything she would need to get back home. It was almost like it wanted her to go home, or maybe it knew that deep down that was what part of her wanted.

“Thanks, whoever you are!” she called out. The creaking of the shack’s walls was her only answer, but she found she didn’t mind.

She felt a fresh swelling of determination; maybe this place, or whoever, was right. Maybe she could go home. Maybe things would be okay. She picked up the map again, rolling it tightly, and set about packing her things; her course was clear.

* * *

“Come on Twig!” Hilda’s voice echoed loud over the beach. “We’re going home!” Even from her vantage point, nearly a third of the way up the nearest rocky spire overlooking her home, Victoria could hear the words loud and clear.

She couldn’t help smiling as she saw the girl run out onto the sand, ponytail bobbing behind her. Her pet galloped after, his hooves kicking up white dust as he shared in her enthusiasm. She had done that, Victoria realised, and the thought made her feel all warm inside in a way her old experiments never had.

She heard a creak from beside her as her assistant shifted, tilting his little head to look at her. She didn’t reply; instead she reached out, looping one arm around the rough bark of his stumpy body and pulling him into her side. He let out another creaking noise, one that Victoria would swear sounded a little content in some indescribable way.

She watched as Hilda disappeared into the forest, her laughter a beautiful song that echoed over the beach. She would probably never know who had helped her, Victoria reasoned, or why, but she found she didn’t mind. It was enough that she had been able to do something positive for once. That made her happy enough.


End file.
